Coka-Kola
by hookerwithapenis
Summary: au cato/clove. early 90's. heroin chic kinda sorta maybe.
1. Chapter 1

**clove.**

They like us skinny.

skinny like sticks and pins and branches in winter. Skinny like secrets.

Skinny like stories behind eyes that huddle in alleys, eyes that scream please, please listen, but no one ever does because it's strange and sad, and besides, they're gonna be late.

my ribs strain against my skin like third world relics, like they're gonna spread until my chest splits open, until my organs blister in the heat and then maybe I will be thin enough.

I always have a fever and it's hot and wicked, blood scalding my veins and thoughts caked to the sides of my skull, sluggish in the heat wave but that's ok because thoughts are as good as shit if you're beautiful.

I'm not hungry though. I mean I am, ravenous actually, but not for food. I kicked that years ago.

{

you've probably seen me before.

and you don't know where because to you I'm not real. That's ok, I don't take it personally.

I'm not entirely sure of my existence either.

I'm two dimensional, black and white dazed half naked for your viewing pleasures.

You might look at my tits and wish your wife had them like that. Believe me, I wish I had them like that too. All I have is photo shop.

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spoil that for you. I'm not all fake. Yet.

}

I dream too much.

I can never hold onto them tight enough though and they always drift away like balloons, and I watch them from the pavement, watch them fade away until the sky reaches out, popping them between stratospheres, watch them cascade down to earth like a shot bird.

Sometimes though I get so high I can grasp at them, but then my hands turn into spiders and nothing works right.

{

**A/N: few things. I'm sure if I like this. I don't know if I wanna continue it, and if I do I don't know if it will be in this format or what. It will eventually be cato/clove. And if you have no idea what the fuck is going on here that makes two of us. so yeah. and stuff.**

**Sometimes you just have to write stuff down. **


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't happen right away.

I knew what I was getting into, knew that I was playing with fire. But I didn't care, after all, I like it hot.

Most of the girls I know do it to stay skinny. I do it because I get bored. I get so bored I can't sleep and sometimes I kill things. Sometimes I can feel my life closing in around me like a snare and my thoughts start shrieking bloody murder.

I need something to live for, I need a dream that can't get away.

Once I looked for the point of it all in the centers of flowers and the eyes of strangers. Now I just look for a way to escape.

Go home, it's late.

The flame convulsed under the white powder and I was a moth. I could feel the sin festering in the room, so tantalizingly acrid in my throat. But I was already going to hell. Fuck it, I'll enjoy the ride. Some people just can't be saved.

Then I jumped off a cliff and fell backwards into the sky.

Each of my cells exploded in a supernova. My veins ran hot with liquid euphoria. Time got thick and clumpy and I remember how the universe fell like snow, and I got a blurry memory caught in my hair.

And then everything shut the fuck up. Finally.

{

He watched me from across the bar I was too young to be at. I'm used to eyes on me, snake eyes that slither lazily over my body through lakes of vodka, eyes that fuck me shamelessly as I grind against boys with Mohawks and girls who wanna forget and sometimes I can't tell but it doesn't matter cause sex is sex.

But these eyes weren't like that. _I dare you _they murmured. And there was something about the way the purple strobe lights played off his hair and that wicked smirk that drew me away from the whoever my hips were pressed against.

_Can I get you a drink, beautiful?_ He was fucking sexy. And not much older than I was. But I wasn't thirsty, and I could tell, neither was he. Still, I appreciated the facade.

_I think we can do better than that_ I purred, working my eyeliner in a way that gets the evil ones every time. I could smell it on him, acrid and musky, feel it seeping from his pores, cold fingers caressing his bones. Then that wicked smirk ripened into a full-fledged grin

_let's get outta here_ his fingers laced through mine, I had nothing to lose.

We barely made it to his couch before our clothes were scattered on the shitty carpet, waves of shadows washing blue and jagged over our slick bodies.

_lie back and relax, you're gonna love this _

The white powder settled on my skin like powdered sugar, back arching and toes curling as his lips ravished my stomach like secrets, lapping and biting. My fingers knotted in his hair and I feel my heart echoing in my skull, blood electric.

But I was irritable. This wasn't fair.

I shoved him off me, reaching for the baggie and sprinkling pinch after pinch down my throat till I felt it shredding my lungs.

All of a sudden we were fucking, really fucking, and we went hard because we were sky rocketing above pain, above regret and second thoughts and all that other bullshit that makes it hard to breathe. Our bodies were numb and our minds were distorted with rage and now we could do anything.

_are you fucking high, love?_ he murmured in a voice like rain.

}

Sometimes, If I try real hard, I can remember the boy with the blonde hair and the grin like a devil.

{

**a/n: sometimes I would give anything to be a psychopath. **


	3. Chapter 3

I knew it would get this bad eventually but I didn't think it would happen this fast.

The girl on the ground, the girl painted like some little kid's art project in her own soft angel blood. I've talked to her a few times and I think she was nice but I don't know because all those sunken eyes are the same.

It was festering in my mind, my thoughts itchy and chaotic with it while it shrieked, shrieked and clawed at my skull until I could no longer shove it away, pretend it wasn't part of me.

Because it was me. Still is.

And now there's death everywhere, lying on top of her, kissing her tepid skin. Swelling in the room until I couldn't breathe.

the knife felt so right in my hand like an extra finger and my nerves hummed against the metal.

Now I had to escape before my window of possibility slammed shut, while I was still feral and insane enough, frantic in my crescendo.

The darkness reached out to me, particle by particle of my night-stained skin until I was a memory on the smoldering asphalt and perhaps a lyric in the insect's requiem.

twenty-six cents, a phone number, fragments of a dream.

}

_we could go anywhere _smoke leaked from his nostrils, unfurling lazily against the worn leather seats.

We were in the back seat of his car, my head in his lap and he was staring out the window like he couldn't tell what was really there and what wasn't.

But I was antsy, muscles clammy with congealed energy. Can't you see me decaying, flailing, fading wispy like the smoke?

_Just take me away_

the sky was a kinda greyish purple with these infected orange gashes like it got attacked, and I hadda keep closing my eyes cause if I stared for too long blood started seeping to the clouds.

_there's not really anywhere to go _so we just sat there breathing slow and heavy with lungs that weighed a million pounds._  
_

{

**a/n: sorry I know this one is kinda boring. the next one will be better and don't worry all the weird shit will eventually make sence. **

**also new cover bitches HALLA. and no I am not a hooker. **


	4. Chapter 4

**um...so wow. thanks for all the reviews guys honestly i didn't think we'd make it this far. you people rock.**

**by the way i'm thinking clove is like 17 or 18 and cato's 20. just figured i'd give you some barring. **

**also, to the person who asked about the acid bath reference, were you thinking of the insects requiem thing? yes, yes it was. **

Butterflies. My eyes were bleary so they were kinda smeared into the sky but there were hundreds of them everywhere all orange and black, wings like dusk against my face, oblivious in their little infinity.

Their wings distorted the air with magnified ripples that washed over my body in chilled waves. I reveled in their chaos, the utter spontaneity of their movement.

You know sometimes I would give anything to be as stupid as a butterfly. maybe if I kill enough brain cells my thoughts will be lighter and I could fly.

They borrowed through my skin, twitching in my veins and emerging with my blood glistening on their scales. Slowly my body was unraveling, flesh chaffing away but I didn't care because they were so, so lovely.

_can you hear me? snap outta this jesus fucking chirst stop it! can't you feel what you're doing to yourself? fuck...hold on a sec..._

leave me alone, I like it here. Don't you like the butterflies too? It hurts that you don't like them, that I'm making them from my skin and you don't like them.

But my skin was burning, smoke curling into the air and charred wings cascading like intoxicated angels. It was in me though I realized, my soft organs curling and rupturing as the flames licked at them, cancerous ashes in their wake.

Then the flames shattered like glass but the pain was still there, coursing through me in a fever pitch as the car materialized around me, heart ramming into my skull so hard and then I was vomiting but there wasn't even anything in my stomach so I just lay there heaving and choking and burning.

I didn't need to look at my arms to know the skin was gone because I could feel it wedged under my fingernails.

He was sitting on top of the car, watching me through the sun roof with a lazy version of that devil grin, like the muscles in his face weren't working good. Those pupils like swollen moons, eclipsing his murky irises.

_trippin through the sky, speedin' on light high as fuck. _

{

He was ghostly under the harsh lights, all saturated with decay.

sometimes a nurse would come to stick in needles that left bruises like mold on his translucent skin. I hated that the most.

They tried to stick needles in me too but I wouldn't let them because once they touch you there's a part of you that stops fighting.

You might have it too they said, but I didn't care. They said I might die but I told them to fuck off because I was probably dying anyways.

On the third day I tried to lace my fingers through his but they were all cold and spidery like an alien's. I almost touched his face but I was afraid my hand would pass right through thin air.

_we're doing what we can sweetie._ She stuck another needle in and made another bruise, and I wanted to tackle her, stab her over and over again with that stupid fucking needle because this wasn't him, wasn't they boy who I fucked and shot up with and watched sunsets with. This was some body that was eating itself alive and I couldn't fucking take it anymore.

The car was unlocked and the little foil packet was where I left it. Stroking my veins, gently pulling my cells apart and scattering them in the rain drops.


End file.
